


In My Head

by Katranga



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mention of Karofsky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 19:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1700264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katranga/pseuds/Katranga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Santana starts mocking Kurt about never being kissed, he pretends to have a boyfriend to shut her up. He quickly starts to believe his own lies... Based on a gif set from a while ago, link within.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Head

**Author's Note:**

> I first posted this on tumblr two years ago, I think? Wow, time flies. Anyway, the link to the gifset it's based off of is below. If you don't want to be spoiled, check it out after you've finished.

[Link](http://assvengrrs.tumblr.com/post/25507132311/glee-au-i-made-the-whole-thing-up-in-my-head) to gifset

* * *

 

It started out innocently enough, Kurt liked to think. 

“Kurt, have you ever even _kissed_ a boy?” Santana’s were lips twisted in a smirk, as if she already knew the embarrassing answer. 

He blushed and crossed his arms in a huff while his friends laughed and rolled their eyes.

Because it was so obvious that Kurt had never been kissed, because of course nobody would ever want him. What a ridiculous notion. That Kurt was desirable or interesting or sexy in any way.

So without really thinking about it, he spat, “Of course I have.”

Mercedes raised her eyebrows. As his best friend, and the first person he’d come out to, of course she found it incredibly unlikely that Kurt had received his first kiss without telling her.

“ _Who_?” she asked, calling his bluff.

Tina was side-eyeing him dubiously and Santana snorted into her hand.

“Drunken kiss at Scandals?” the cheerleader guessed. “Because the tender crook of your own elbow doesn’t count, baby gay.”

Kurt shot Mercedes a venomous look, because he’d spoken to her about that in _confidence_ , but she only shrugged apologetically.              

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. So the only possible way anybody would want him is if they were drunk?

“No,” he bit out in response to Santana’s question.

“Well who was it?” Brittany pressed, eyes wide as she leaned forward.

The only person who believed him was _Brittany_ , he lamented. He should stop the charade now, make a dramatic exit and then they’d have to stop bugging him.

But instead of doing the sensible thing, another lie fell from his lips.

“My boyfriend,” he said.

“What?” Even the boys were paying attention now, and Finn was looking at him, confusion clouding his face. “Does Burt know?”

“Kurt, you’re slipping someone the hot beef injection?” Puck asked, somewhat excitedly. “Or are you taking it? Top or bottom?”

“I should have you two over for dinner!” Rachel said, for some unknown reason.

“It’s long distance,” Kurt shook his head, lips moving of their own accord. “He lives in New York.”

“ _Who_?” Mercedes asked, her disbelief reducing her to monosyllables.

“His name is Blaine,” he said somewhat defensively. Because it was a lie, he knew it was a lie. He’d just always liked that name. “Blaine Anderson.”

* * *

 

“Kurt?” Burt called his son out of his room later that night. “Finn said-”

“It’s a lie,” Kurt cut in immediately, unwilling and unable to lie to his dad. “I just didn’t want them making fun of me.”

Burt looked at him almost pityingly. Kurt didn’t want that, that was almost worse than the laughter of his fellow glee club members.

“Bud, sometimes… you’ll meet someone eventually, you know? Any boy would be lucky to be with you,” he finally said after a minute of considering responsible responses as a parent. “You don’t need to make up stories.”

“Yeah, okay,” he sighed, scuffing his foot against the carpet. “Thanks.”

“And you probably shouldn’t lie to your friends,” he added.

“I know,” he nodded. “They’ll forget about it; won’t mention it again. It’s not a big deal.”

And it wasn’t, not yet.

* * *

 

After failing to come up with any proof of Blaine’s existence –pictures, Facebook, text messages- most of his friends had come to the conclusion that Kurt had been lying.

Santana, however, continued to be a dick about the whole situation.

“How did you meet?” she asked inquisitively, chin in her hand at their next glee practice.

“What?” he’d asked distractedly, mentally planning out his outfit for the next day.

“Your _lover_ ,” she laughed derisively.

“Oh, um when I visited New York over the Christmas holiday,” he replied dismissively. He swallowed and added, “Instant chemistry.”

“So, is he attractive?” she persisted. “What’s he look like?”

“Is he a vampire, is that why you have no pictures of him?” Puck asked, who had ignored all evidence to the truth and had begun shipping Klaine like it was his job.

“I bet he’s got a unibrow,” Santana continued. “And lots of hairy moles. All over his face.”

“And buckteeth,” Artie put in, because he could be mean when he wanted to be.

“And fairy wings,” Brittany added brightly, not completely sure what game they were playing.

“And a peg leg.”

“Shut up!” Kurt shouted, annoyance spiking. Of course they’d make a complete joke out of any boyfriend he might have. “He’s not some… freak of nature. He’s- he’s-”

“Made-up,” Finn muttered under his breath.

“Debonair,” he finally uttered, glaring at step-brother. “He- he has old Hollywood good looks.”

“Does he now?” Santana asked, laughter tugging at her lips.

“Kurt-” Mercedes tried to stop Kurt  from embarrassing himself further.

“And he has the most beautiful eyes,” he continued, because he just couldn’t stop himself. “They’re really expressive. And a beautiful golden-brown colour.”

“Like pancakes?” Finn asked. “Dude, you’re making me hungry.”

“Does he sing, Kurt?” Rachel asked despite herself.

“Of course,” he replied. “He has a gorgeous voice. We sound beautiful together.”

“Ooh! You’ve done duets?”

“Rachel!” Mercedes chastised.

“What?”

“Stop encouraging him!”

The questions stopped for a moment, and Schuester looked up from his papers, surprised by the sudden silence.

“So Kurt,” Santana began, voice loud, “what’s his favourite musical?”

* * *

 

Kurt started thinking about Blaine. A lot. He’d always thought about characteristics he’d found attractive in boys, and suddenly he was just attaching all of them to Blaine.

He could sing. In fact, he was lead soloist of his glee club. He dressed well. And let Kurt dress him. He liked bowties and Patti LuPone. His eyelashes were long and thick and his hands were warm. He was fit but not overly muscular.

Kurt had always seen himself with a guy taller than himself, but when Santana had inquired about height differences, he’d immediately replied that Blaine was a few inches shorter than himself.

Puck had then fist-pumped the air, certain that Kurt topped.

But Kurt never really considered that sort of thing.

He just thought about how kind and caring and funny Blaine was. And he liked Kurt so much. When Kurt would talk he’d always pay attention to him, and offer his own insightful opinions.

Kurt had this idea that if Blaine were real, they’d Skype at least three times a week and would text each other basically all day.

At school, he started thinking about how Blaine would react to situations, and what he’d say to Kurt to make him feel better when he got pushed into lockers over and over again.

Kurt decided that Blaine would be knowledgeable about bullying, having been bullied himself before moving to New York. Blaine would probably encourage Kurt to stand up to Karofsky, who had taken to tormenting him mercilessly.

He mentioned the bully to Mercedes a few times, but she’d just shrug him off and walk away. They were growing apart; she didn’t want to put up with his falsehoods.

Kurt thought about coming clean at that point, but how big of a fool would he make of himself then? He’d already come up with an entire biography and personality for his boyfriend. He’d even invented this perfect school with a zero tolerance policy that Blaine desperately wanted Kurt to be able to attend. It was in New York though, and logically, Kurt couldn’t leave his dad.

He’d look like an idiot if he finally admitted that he was lying now.

* * *

 

He cried in his bed after Karofsky kissed him in the locker room. He tried to replace the memory of Karofsky’s harsh, demanding mouth stealing his first kiss from him with the feel of Blaine’s lips on his, warm and soft.

Blaine would console him over the phone and tell him he loved him and sing him to sleep. Since Blaine was his boyfriend, and had been his first kiss after all, Kurt was soothed slightly. He could replace those horrible memories with nicer ones of Blaine holding him close and whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

When the footballer threatened Kurt with death the next day, Kurt knew that Blaine would have been there to speak with Karofsky civilly (because that’s just the type of guy Blaine was) if only he weren’t thousands of miles away in New York.

Kurt sobbed in the hallway after being elected Prom Queen, but luckily Blaine had gone as his date and was able to comfort him and convince him to slip back inside the gym full of his tormentors. Because Kurt had Blaine, so what did a few cruel words really matter?

Blaine was the only thing keeping Kurt from falling apart completely.

Mercedes had all but washed her hands of him.

His dad hated the fact that Blaine would casually pop up in conversation. He didn’t think it was healthy to so frequently reference a lie.

Santana was getting tired of the joke, but Kurt still talked about Blaine to the glee club constantly.

Rachel only clung to Kurt because her and Finn were on the outs again and nobody else could stand to be around her.

It was just so much easier believing that Blaine was a real person, who actually cared about Kurt’s well-being. It was an incredible relief to believe that anybody could be so loving and devoted to him. He kept the thought of Blaine close to his heart, and tender in his mind, because he was the most precious thing in Kurt’s life.

* * *

 

He spent hours that summer thinking about him and Blaine in New York together, of them kissing and going on dates and holding each other tight.

When Puck texted to ask him if he was going to visit Blaine during the summer, the reality that he was staring at his bedroom ceiling in Lima, Ohio came crashing down around him. But he responded quickly that Blaine would be in Paris for the summer, because Blaine’s dad didn’t approve of their relationship and didn’t want them to see each other. It was tragic, and Kurt missed him more than words could express, but he assured Puck that him and Blaine still texted each other frequently, and that he promised to send Kurt postcards from the most romantic city in the world.

Kurt still laid for hours in his bed, imagining their future together. He would of course be going to college in New York next year, and then they would be reunited, Blaine’s father be damned. They’d be able to spend so much time together, and he wouldn’t have to worry about being clingy because Blaine missed Kurt just as much as Kurt missed him.

He wondered if Blaine would prefer silver or gold wedding bands, and made a mental note to consult him on the matter so he could more properly plan out the colour scheme for their wedding.

* * *

 

Near the end of summer he went out for coffee with Rachel, who had been checking up on him at least once a week. She was worried about him, Kurt could tell, but he couldn’t understand why.

“Ooh,” she said excitedly as they sat down at a table with their hot beverages. “I think that barista was flirting with you.”

Kurt shrugged, not having noticed it and not caring besides. “I have a boyfriend, Rachel.”

Her smile tightened, like it actually just wanted to slide off her face. “You have a figment of your imagination,” she corrected quietly.

“No, I don’t.”

“Kurt, honey,” she said, putting her hand on his. “This has gone on long enough. We’re worried about you.”

“No, you’re not,” he shook his head, grabbing his hand back. “There’s nothing to be worried about. I’m completely happy, haven’t you noticed?”

“You spend all your time in your room. I don’t think you even leave the house unless I’m dragging you out of it-”

“Then who exactly is the ‘we’ in your equation, Rachel?” he asked, tilting his head and barely reigning in his anger. “Don’t play stupid. Nobody cares about me except Blaine.”

“ _Kurt_ ,” she hissed, leaning across the table in an attempt to better get through to him. “There is a perfectly good, _real_ guy over there that was flirting with you, but you can’t get over this _insane_ idea of your imaginary boyfriend long enough to try forming a real relationship.”

“He’s not imaginary! And I’m not insane!” he disputed, voice going high.

“Can’t you see through your illusions? You made up this perfect boy that’s everything you could possibly want-”

“I didn’t ‘make him up’, he’s a real person who loves me-” he spat fiercely.

“No! Kurt, you threw out some random name to prove Santana wrong about how you’d never kissed a guy. Can’t you remember reality?”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you guys,” he said, hot tears pricking his eyes. “Just because you can’t pester the shit out of him, you decide that he’s not real.”

“Hey, gay face,” a smarmy voice came up behind him.

“Sebastian, we’re busy!” Rachel shouted at the rival show choir competitor.

“Yeah, I heard,” he replied, smirking down at Kurt. “How’s -what’s his name- Blaine? The incredible invisible boyfriend. Is he sitting next to you now?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he sniffed, wiping angrily at his eyes. “He’s in Paris.”

Sebastian threw his head back and laughed. “Well if that doesn’t scream ‘imaginary boyfriend’, I don’t know what does!”

Kurt stood up in a rush, muttering, “I need to go home. Blaine and I have a Skype date.”

He pushed past Sebastian, spilling the other boy’s coffee across his chest.

“Kurt, please!” Rachel cried, distraught.

He didn’t look back.

* * *

 

“Kurt, Rachel called me,” Burt began, standing in the doorway of the house when Kurt got home. “We need to talk.”

“I can’t,” he gave a shake of his head. “Blaine’s expecting me-”

Burt put a large hand on his son’s arm and guided him into the living room. “Kurt, please. This needs to stop.”

“What? What needs to stop?” he burst out. “The only thing that makes me happy? How dare you ask me to break up with Blaine.”

“He’s not real,” his father insisted, eyes glistening. His face had all the pity from the first time he asked about Blaine times a billion. “I should have stopped this long ago, I’m sorry.”

“Of course he’s real, I love him! And he loves me!” he exclaimed, pointing dramatically at his chest. “In fact, he’s the only person who seems to.”

“Kurt,” Burt said, voice breaking. “You can’t think that.”

“Why wouldn’t I? No one cares what I’m going through. No one cares about my life,” he choked out, wrapping his arms around himself. “Blaine, he’s-”

“Bud, you told me yourself, when all this was just starting, that this Blaine kid was just a lie to get the glee club to stop picking on you,” he insisted. He put an arm around his son’s shoulders, holding on tight like he could keep him from soaring away into his delusion.

Kurt turned into his father’s side, keeping his eyes wide to try and keep the tears from falling. “No,” he denied desperately.

His memories were dissolving like smoke. Blaine’s breath-taking grin when he first saw Kurt, their first kiss in Times Square, Blaine’s soft hands cradling his face- the happiest memories of Kurt’s life were replaced by Kurt feeding the pigeons alone in Central Park and awkwardly walking away when a hobo asked him for some bread.

“You just have to accept it,” Burt whispered, stroking his hair. “Blaine’s not real.”

There’d been nobody to confide in after the Karofsky kiss, no one had been there for him after he’d been elected Prom Queen. Blaine hadn’t been there. Nobody had actually cared.

Kurt broke down in his father’s arms, his sobs overtaking him. Burt slowly settled them both onto the couch and tried to console him. Kurt could barely breathe; he couldn’t believe it except it was true. It was so overwhelmingly true.

“I- I- I-” he wailed, tears streaming down his face. “I made the whole thing up in my head, didn’t I?”

* * *

 

The next week was hard for him. The week after that was harder, because school had started up again.

Kurt Hummel had to slink back into McKinley, boyfriendless and defenceless against the harsh realities of his life. Karofsky greeted him with a welcome back slushie and a shove into a locker, and there was no Blaine telling him that at least it was his last year, and cheering him up with a corny joke.

Mercedes still refused to talk to him, and there was no Blaine assuring him that it wasn’t that rude to mentally criticize her fashion sense if she wouldn’t let him help her shop.

No Blaine to regale him with stories from Paris.

No Blaine to compliment his first day of school outfit.

No Blaine to love him.

No Blaine.

It was the end of their second day and he reluctantly skulked into the choir room for the first glee club meeting of the year, head ducked down low.

“Kurt!” Puck exclaimed. “How’s Bl-?”

“Imaginary,” the word shot out of his mouth quickly. “That’s how he is. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t look up to see Puck’s face fall.

“ _No_. Really?” Santana asked, and Kurt was worried about slipping in the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“But he made you so happy,” Puck protested in a small voice.

Kurt slumped into a chair and hoped that everyone would just ignore his pathetic existence.

“Well, I for one, am very happy for you, Kurt,” Rachel announced. “Really, it shows incredible strength to-”

“Hey guys,” Schuester interrupted her condescension. “I’d like everyone to give a warm welcome to our newest member, Blaine Anderson.”

Kurt’s head snapped up so fast it hurt.

Walking into the choir room behind Schuester was a short boy with slicked back hair in a sweater vest, looking curiously around the room. He grinned widely at the club in their seats, and Kurt could practically feel the incredulous glare Santana was shooting at the back of Kurt’s head.

He couldn’t do anything but gape at the boy in front of him. His mind was racing and his heart was pounding faster than a hummingbird’s wings in his chest. He pinched his leg to make sure he wasn’t dreaming because…

That was him. That was _him-_ it was Blaine Anderson, Kurt’s imaginary-but-apparently-not boyfriend, standing in the middle of the choir room, plain for everyone to see. He was almost exactly how Kurt had imagined him. And the whole glee club knew that too, because he had described Blaine in detail to everyone in the room.

New Directions were uncharacteristically silent.

“Is there a problem, guys?” Schuester asked, looking around at their wide eyes and open mouths in confusion.

“Mercedes,” Kurt gasped at his ex-best friend, because he knew she’d tell the truth. He waved his hand, arm feeling boneless, to get her attention. “You- it’s- right?” he could barely breathe so he was having a bit of difficulty speaking.

The boy, Blaine fucking Anderson, in the flesh, furrowed his eyebrows- how had Kurt even gotten those ridiculous eyebrows right? His lips twitched downward uncertainly, gaze roaming over the crowd.

“Yes,” she confirmed solemnly.

“Blaine,” Kurt squeaked.

The boy tilted his head, light shining off his gelled hair. A grin spread across his face slowly- not tentatively, just as if he wanted to enjoy the feeling.

“I’ve been looking for you forever,” he finally said, wide eyes glued to Kurt’s.

Puck let out a thrilled squeal.


End file.
